Courtship
by haveyounomercy
Summary: Squalo isn't dating Yamamoto. Yamamoto begs to differ. S80


**A/N:** Tiny little drabble about my two favourite idiots. Sorry for OOC-ness.

o~

Squalo stares at the soft plush toy in his hand with a mixture of disgust and horror. "And what the hell is this?"

From across the table, Yamamoto smiles as he holds up his own toy shark. "It's a gift. To remind you of me."

"Why the hell would I want something like this?" Squalo frowns as he puts the plushie down. It's true, the soft smile on the dog's face does seem stupidly reminiscent of the other boy, which is probably why Squalo hates it. He angrily stabs at his chocolate cake. He doesn't even get why he's here, in a stupid girly cake shop sitting with the only person that he thinks is _more_ frustrating to deal with than the freaks he has at his own house.

Yamamoto shrugs and slurps his strawberry smoothie loudly.

Squalo rolls his eyes and goes back to defacing his cake. It's too sweet and it's not like he's hungry anyway, he already ate a parfait and he didn't want another dessert but it's Yamamoto's turn to pay so he'll order whatever the fuck he wants.

He stops, fork in midair.

Taking in his surroundings, Squalo suddenly realizes that he's spending his precious day off with Yamamoto, just like he's spent his last _five_ day offs with the baseball nerd. He narrows his eyes and slams his fork down on the pink tabletop. "We're not friends," he says with venom.

"I know." Yamamoto replies with a smile. "We're more than that."

Squalo's eyes widen and he doesn't hesitate to pick up his fork and throw it at Yamamoto, who dodges it with ease. "I don't know what your trash brain is suffering from, but you better be telling me we're rivals or something stupid like that!" His stomach feels all twisted and he blames it on the chestnuts Yamamoto bought him when they were walking down the street.

"We are rivals," Yamamoto says cheerfully. Squalo sighs in relief and sinks into his seat. "But we're also boyfriends."

"VOOI!" Squalo shrieks as he jumps out of his seat, slamming his knee on the pink table. "What the fuck did you just say?" He leans across the table and grabs the other boy's collar, pulling him up.

"This is our fifth date." Yamamoto brings his smoothie up with him and slurps some more. Squalo smacks it out of his hand. Yamamoto is unfazed. "Is your knee okay?"

Squalo tightens his grip and grits his teeth, "We. Are. Not. Dating."

The Vongola guardian tilts his head, eyebrows raised. "Last time, you bought me a burger and took some of my fries."

"I was just paying you back for the cotton candy you bought when we went to Disneyland, idiot!"

"You called me out here though."

"I needed to buy socks!"

"Yeah, we got matching ones." Yamamoto motions to their bags. "And matching shirts too. And I bought you a gift."

Squalo resists the urge to punch Yamamoto in the jaw. This has all been a huge misunderstanding, just like when he misread the sign at Disneyland and had to ride the Supreme Jetcoaster with Yamamoto instead of the ferris wheel. He feels a little uncomfortable when he remembers clutching Yamamoto's hand for dear life, but it didn't matter and was all very heterosexual because they were sparring partners and Vongola members and _definitely were not boyfriends._ Squalo growls and shakes Yamamoto, raising his voice. "WE'RE NOT DATING."

"But you love me." Yamamoto states plainly.

"I DO NOT." Squalo does, in fact, punch Yamamoto this time. The younger boy lands against the feathery cushions of the booth as Squalo crosses his arms in front of him. That oughta show him who loved who. How dare he even question the great Superbi Squalo, whose name is feared across the globe and can't possibly be interested in a dumb freak like Yamamoto Takeshi. The very thought of it makes him twitchy and nervous. He glares some more.

"You've saved my life a bunch of times, you purposefully call me out when you want to do anything, and you told me last week that you didn't mind hanging out with me." Yamamoto's smile is blinding, even though his lip is bruised. "You love me, Squalo. But it's okay. I love you too."

Squalo blinks. His stomach turns. He thinks about Yamamoto's stupid face, about them taking sticky pictures, about how not weird it was when they rode the merry go round together four times in a row. And then he leaps up across the table and kicks Yamamoto in the chest.

"I'm going to give you a week to think over your stupidity," he remarks with an annoyed huff as he brushes himself off. Yamamoto, meanwhile, bleeds onto the pants Squalo bought him for his birthday. "Next week I want to eat chicken and not hear your bullshit anymore." Satisfied with himself, he spits on the ground next to Yamamoto's shoe and grabs his bag of socks before sauntering out the café.

Yamamoto spits out some blood and calls for the bill. He guesses next week's date will have to be a western restaurant then.


End file.
